


I’ve loved you for a thousand lifetimes

by FrailYard (FrailYard0220)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Geralt is a cop, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier | Dandelion Are Soulmates, Happy Ending, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Implied Sexual Content, Jaskier plays guitar, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27702668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrailYard0220/pseuds/FrailYard
Summary: Geralt looked where she was pointing and felt his heart do a flip. There he was again, following Geralt into yet another lifetime. A 21st century version of his old companion.He should be used to it by now, as much as it had happened, but he was simply stumped, left speechless, and seemingly without a functioning brain, because he couldn’t make his feet march out the door like they should have.*In which Geralt stumbles upon reincarnation after reincarnation of Jaskier, until he finds one that sticks around.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 17
Kudos: 314





	I’ve loved you for a thousand lifetimes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Memory of a Song](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25314556) by [Civilized_muppets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Civilized_muppets/pseuds/Civilized_muppets). 



> Inspired by Civilized_Muppets amazing fic, but instead of it being the actual siren Jaskier it’s a human reincarnation of him in the 21st century (so what Geralt thinks is happening in their fic). Basically a Modern au meets Reincarnation au? With a sprinkle of soulmate au.
> 
> Not gonna lie, a lot of AUs intertwining here.
> 
> Also they have a different dynamic and jobs and the story is different of course, just wanted to give credit where credit is due.

Jaskier was special. Geralt could feel it from the moment he met him, yet it was like he didn’t notice it at all. He far was too infatuated by the singing, lute-playing, story-telling, annoying and, well, him.

Jaskier had been a complicated matter for Geralt. Never before had he felt this comfortable around yet hurt by a single person. Not even Yennefer could come close.

Yennefer was all fire and passion, bound to run out. Jaskier was a warm blanket: safe, comfortable and secure.

He had regretted that day on the mountain for years, decades even, if he ever truly stopped. Mostly he was angry for the time he wasted, time he could’ve spent searching for Jaskier.

It took a few weeks to see the fault in his actions, but from that moment on he always kept a lookout for Jaskier. In every tavern, in every town, he hoped to see his lovely face again or hear his enchanting voice. But he never did.

After half a century he came to the conclusion that Jaskier must’ve died of old age already. The realisation knocked the wind out of him, and he spent days upon days grieving in the woods in solitude. It took months before Ciri, now a woman herself, got him back to society and his usual monster-hunting routine. But it felt empty and unrewarding with the knowledge that Jaskier would never be by his side again.

And then one day he was. He stood wiping off a table drowned in what he presumed was a spilled ale inside a tavern Geralt had stopped by. 

Geralt had always thought he would choose fight over flight in a daunting situation. Never in a million years did he think he would freeze.

When had Jaskier looked up, because it had to be Jaskier, with that floppy mop of brown hair and cornflower blue eyes, he smiled brightly at Geralt and waved him over.

Geralt couldn’t believe his luck.

“Hello, Witcher” he said with a cheeky look, and Geralt could’ve laughed in relief right then. He could’ve opened his mouth and spilled all the thought’s he’d gathered on their 22 year long friendship during their painfully long separation. Hell, he could hug him, he was so relieved to see his old friend. That is, until Jaskier opened his mouth again: “You’re the white wolf, aren’t you? From those old songs? I heard them in every tavern growing up and then the blacksmith said you were in town. You seemed like quite the legend... You look different than I thought though.”

Geralt could feel when the smile on his face fell, when the weight on his shoulders was doubled, and when his moments ago easy heart fell down his stomach.

No, he couldn’t believe his luck, because it wasn’t true. And suddenly sanity and logic seemed to overtake his mind again. Because this wasn’t Jaskier. And yet it _was_.

His face was younger, his hair messier and his eyes bluer. He didn’t have the marks Geralt knew their adventures had left, his brown hair hadn’t started to pepper in with grey that Jaskier had complained about every time he saw his reflection, and his eyes hadn’t dulled over all the tears he’d spilled over Geralt’s wellbeing. _Not yet._

Geralt immediately realised his mistake. And was about to turn on his heel and leave the tavern when the man, who couldn’t be a day over the entirety of their previous friendship, apologised if he had offended him in any way and offered to buy Geralt lunch. The pleading smile he offered was enough for Geralt to cave, even though he knew he shouldn’t. 

Perhaps sanity and logic wasn’t always enough, with Jaskier nothing had ever made sense after all.

And that was how he ended up having lunch with the reincarnation of his old friend, begrudgingly telling him about the adventures he had encountered, sure to leave their shared one’s out of the conversation. It was uncanny telling Jaskier about a part of his previous life that he no longer remembered.

Same looks, same personality, same annoyingly persistant attitude, but new memories in a new body. Memories that did not contain Geralt, and a body that had never laid eyes on him before that morning.

When they were supposed to part Geralt had probably looked more heartbroken than he should have, because this new, strange Jaskier offered him a hug. And in the most un-Geralt move in all of history, he had accepted and squeezed the young man tight into his chest, relishing in the comfort it brought him.

Jaskier had gotten another chance at life, and this time Geralt wasn’t going to mess it up by getting him involved in life threatening situations every other day or using him as his emotional punching bag. At least he’d gotten some closure before departing from his old friend one last time, even though he never got the chance to apologise for the mistakes that haunted him.

But Geralt was certain this was the last time he’d see Jaskier, he’d make sure of it.

*

Centuries passed, and as it seemed, destiny had other plans in store for Geralt.

Every so often he would meet another of Jaskier’s apperently never ending reincarnations.

He was a nobleman in one life, a pirate in the other. Once he’d even become a fae that Geralt had been sent (and refused) to kill. The only constant seemed to be his love for music and the impossibility of not running into Geralt every few decades, at most a century apart.

But their encounters seemed to slim out over longer and longer periods of time after the 18th century and the industrial revolution, which Geralt presumed was due to life rates improving.  
That was, until the 19th century, where the track went cold. Geralt would be lying if he said it didn’t sting worse than the first time he thought he’d lost Jaskier forever.

He knew he shouldn’t interact with a reincarnation. He’d heard stories, after all, of what happened if they regained some memories: how their identities could split and ruin them from the inside. Although he didn’t know how reliable the source was, nothing was worth hurting Jaskier over, not even for another day spent with him or another word said to him.

Jaskier, as it seemed, had no problem chatting away with Geralt as if they were life long friends whenever they met, which, he supposed, they still were. Jaskier just didn’t know that. The problem with running into your best friend that didn’t remember you over and over was that for every time they met, the Witcher grew a little weaker, and his resistance broke a little at the seams. Sometimes he would even stay a little longer than he should. It was never more than an hour, but he had so missed the spirit of Jaskier in his presence.

So perhaps it was good that Jaskier disappeared when he did, because Geralt’s defences were all but non-existent by then. It hurt like nothing had ever hurt before to see him each time, but breaking down and telling the next Jaskier every single detail of his previous life would hurt Jaskier more. And Geralt would never hurt Jaskier.

Not as a human, not as a fae, not even if he became a bruxa. But it seemed he needn’t worry about that since by the 18-19th century most magical creatures had either gone extinct or into hiding.

But again, so had Jaskier, as it seemed.

Until, once again, he wasn’t anymore.

*

“Good morning, Detective”

By the 21st century Geralt had, after many trails and errors of different occupations, found himself working as a police officer. He had left his monster hunting days behind and found himself tracking down a different kind of monsters instead, working in the homocide department at the NYPD.

“Morning, Janine. Last day today?” He asked the receptionist before walking towards his desk.

“And then retirement” she said with a sweet smile. Her cheeriness was unusual for such a heavy department, but perhaps they needed some light in their line of work. Geralt was almost thankful for having a cheerleader like that again.

Living in New York City was exciting, especially in this new age. Technology had evolved so much during the last 100 years that he had a hard time keeping up. It took a while to grasp the idea of telephones, let alone cellphones and computers, but by now he was used to it. Ciri said only old, grumpy people didn’t have them, ignoring that he most likely was the oldest, grumpiest person around. Still, he needed a way to keep in touch with her and Yennefer as they were halfway around the world for their separate reasons.

He had taken the steps necessary for his assimilation in the new society however. He had all the technology he deemed necessary, had done his best to speak as the people who looked his age spoke and dress the way they dressed. He even sacrificed a few inches of his white hair on the sides but kept it at long on top, often tying it back in a bun. He had thought of how Jaskier would shriek at the sight when he’d shaved the sides himself in the bathroom mirror. He always said he wanted Geralt to grow it out.

All in all, life was good. So Geralt went on like any other day and got to work, trying to make the city a little better with each passing day.

Around three he decided to take a break and walked to a nearby coffee shop, just a few blocks from the precinct.

When he stepped inside he made a beeline for the counter where his favourite barista was, the one who wasn’t too chatty and without that fake customer-service smile, and swiftly ordered a large americano.

“We’ve got a new musician on today.” She said as she was making his drink.

She pointed to the stage where someone was tuning his guitar. The café was known for having on buskers and musicians every once in a while, giving everyday people a chance to show off their talent.

Geralt looked where she was pointing and felt his heart do a flip. There he was again, following Geralt into yet another lifetime. A 21st century version of his old companion.

“He’s been here a few times and seems to get good reviews, at least. You should stick around.” The barista continued.

Geralt didn’t reply. He was too in his head already, memories of Jaskier flooding through his mind in a familiar fashion.

He should be used to it by now, as much as it had happened, but he was simply stumped, left speechless, and seemingly without a functioning brain, because he couldn’t make his feet march out the door like they should have. Instead he leaned against the counter and nodded lightly, not taking his eyes off of the glorious sight of a man stood tuning his crappy, old guitar.

Jaskier sat down on the stool and adjusted the microphone. With practiced ease he flashed a confident smile before presenting himself to the small crowd in the shop.

Geralt decided to just stay for one song, then another, and before long he had sunk down in a comfy armchair in the corner of the room, ignoring his untouched coffee. He ended up staying the whole set.

He just couldn’t pull away from the sight of Jaskier strumming his instrument. His contrastingly soft and raspy voice bounced between the walls as he sang story after story. When he sang it sounded like the things Jaskier would whisper to himself at night, all those years ago. His observations of the world, his beautiful way of viewing everything. It’d been too long since he head Jaskier sing.

Geralt stared in awe,at the man. The way his hair fell down into his eyes, the way his fingers surely plucked the strings, the way he confidently smiled and looked around mid song. Geralt had missed this. More than he’d like to admit.

He knew he really should’ve gone back to work long ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. And when Jaskier finally thanked the crowd and put his guitar in it’s case he couldn’t help but stand up and clap along.

When Geralt finally managed to get a grip and was about to leave, he noticed Jaskier lingering over by his guitar case, checking the straps around it again and again. It slowed his rushed steps. Jaskier seemed to take notice, because as Geralt was walking towards the exit, he was stopped by an all too familiar voice as he passed by the stage.

“Excuse me?”

Geralt closed his eyes and took a breath, fuck knew he needed it, and turned around. His stomach turned and his breath hitched as he faced Jaskier.

“Hi. I just noticed you across the room and I saw that you stayed during my entire set. Or, I mean, you weren’t the only one but a lot of people came and left and you just...”

The Witcher was too preoccupied with watching the way Jaskier’s eyes were darting back and forth from meeting Geralt’s own and focusing intently on a point in the floor to register what he was saying. Jaskier’s voice seemed to fade into the background as Geralt took him in.

His hair hang over his forehead and helplessly fell back into place whenever Jaskier tried to move it out of his eyes. His cheeks were tinted pink and healthy and his exterior seemed to radiate life. Geralt would have silently thanked the gods, if there was such a thing, for Jaskier’s good health. 

He was wearing typical 21st century clothing too. It was unusual to see him in such a way. All the times he’d seen him before he’d been wearing much more extravagant clothes. Not an oversized jumper and wide-legged jeans. Geralt wondered if this was how he always dressed now. Gone we’re the days of silky tunics and...

Geralt was woken from his thoughts by Jaskier taking a deep breath, to catch up with his all that he’d let out in his rant. Geralt felt bad for tuning him out. It was an old habit, as it seemed.

Still, he felt a slow but persistent smile sneak it’s way onto his lips. He’d missed Jaskier’s annoying babbling. He might, even, have found it endearing at one point. But that was something he couldn’t ever admit.

“...Point is.” Jaskier said, with a distinct British lilt that Geralt was glad to hear he’d somehow been allowed to keep in this life. “Would you like to get coffee?”

Geralt felt his eyebrows rise slightly. He couldn’t help but let a surprised: “Oh.” slip out before he could catch it.

Jaskier seemed to deflate a little at that. “Oh, no. Uhm, never mind. I just thought... never mind. I’m sorry.” He said and hitched the strap of his satchel higher up his shoulder and grabbed his guitarr case off the floor. “I’m usually much more suave than this, I promise.” he said lightheartedly.

“No, I’m sorry. I just- I really should get back to work. I wasn’t... “ Gerald didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t one for words. Jaskier, _his Jaskier_ , had told him that enough for him to know it to be true.

“Don’t worry. It’s fine really.” Jaskier interrupted with a little smile and then he looked to the right of Geralt. He waited for Geralt to move out of the way so that he could pass. Geralt took the hint.

“Oh” he said again as Jaskier brushed passed him and walked towards the door. Geralt watched him walk out. He wanted to say something more, but had the wits to hold his tounge this time.

Another Jaskier comes, another Jaskier goes...

*

After a sleepless night spent tossing and turning in his bed, Geralt somehow managed not to crash his car, conveniently named Roach, on his way to work.

“Morning...” he started as he walked through the reception. The second half of the sentence died on his tounge upon the sight of Janine’s empty desk. Right.

“Morning!”

The shock from someone popping up behind the desk made him start, but the shock of staring back at Jaskier was enough to give him a heart attack.

“Oh, hello again” Jaskier said with a charming smile and rested his head against in his palms, supported by elbows on his desk. “Fancy meeting you here.” he continued as if they hadn’t very awkwardly chatted just the day before.

Then again, Jaskier was Jaskier, social and different and with no clue how to read a room. And a bad habit of brushing things of and trying again.

“Hello...” Geralt said stiffly, still too confused to understand what was going on exactly.

“Do you work here?” Jaskier asked and tilted his head slightly.

Geralt nodded. Jaskier shone up. “Really? I’m the new receptionist!”

Of course he was.

Jaskier leaned even further out over his desk and reached out a hand. “Name’s Julian”

Geralt stared at his hand for a second before taking it and giving it a shake.That name was so wrong...

“Geralt” he said gruffly.

“Nice to meet you again.”

*

It took a while to get used to Jaskier’s constant presence, Geralt had learned to live without it. In some ways, it was very much like when they first met, around 750 years ago, with Jaskier nestling his way into his life against Geralt’s constant restraints

It started small, a simple hello in the morning.

Then he remembered Geralt’s coffee order and brought him a steaming cup after a coffee run.

Then he started coming over to his desk and annoying the shit out of Geralt as he worked.

Jaskier didn’t seem to be affected by Geralt. He hadn’t seem to split in half or have a existential crisis every other hour yet. 

Slowly but surely, Geralt got more comfortable in his presence, stopped fighting as much to keep a distance. He even bought him lunch one day because Jaskier was new in the neighbourhood, and he still felt bad for that one time his reincarnation fed him at the tavern just to pick his brain rather unsuccessfully.

But more often then not, they could engage in social interactions and became something short of friends. Perhaps not in the most common definition, but in their own sense. It was very much the same as what had engulfed them back in the 13th century, where Geralt secretly enjoyed Jaskier’s company despite the singing and silly ranting and would do anything to save him from trouble.

Except perhaps there was something more there. Something soft and gentle. He enjoyed the singing and never ending chatting now. He longed to talk to him. To hear about his day and about new lyrics. To hear his opinion instead of blocking it out. Geralt was ashamed that he’d ever felt such things for Jaskier, dislike and distaste, that he’d taken his problems out on him or valued him poorly.

He didn’t know if the years had made him wiser, or weaker.

Perhaps it had been self preservation of some sort, but from what he didn’t know, or maybe he was just a mean spirited person.

Whatever it was, something was different. Still, Jaskier could be very annoying when he wanted to.

“Hey Geralt”

He grunted in response.

“I just wanted to ask if you could give me some pointers on a new song I’ve been working on?”

“I’m working.” He replied.

“Oh come on. I know you so adore my singing voice.”

It was true, but if Geralt told him that he’d never hear the end of it. Another thing he could never let Jaskier know. It might not be such a secret though.

“I don’t have time right now”

“Well I say you do” Jaskier insisted.

“I’m working on a double homicide, Jaskier, I can’t just drop everything to listen to you playing a song.” Geralt said, annoyance present in his voice.

It took a second to realise his mistake.

_Fuck._

“I’m sorry...” Jaskier replied with a fond tone, ignoring Geralt’s harsh comment. “What did you just call me?”

Geralt cast his eyes back to the computer in front of him. He could practically feel the colour draining from his face.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Nothing” he mumbled.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jaskier quirk an eyebrow. His mouth transformed into a sickeningly proud smile. Or perhaps gloaty was a more suiting description. “I like it”

*

Geralt put in a request to transfer the same evening. It was denied.

*

Ever since that day Jaskier had refused to answer to anything but that name when it came to Geralt. It was Julian here and Julian there, but on Geralt’s lips he was deaf to the name.

“Julian?”

“Hmm?”

“Julian.”

“Did you hear something?”

“Will you listen?”

“Only if you use that adorable nickname you made up for me.”

Geralt sighed. “Jaskier.”

“Oh, Geralt, Hello there! I must’ve missed you. Or should I say Gerry?”

“No.”

*

“Right, I have this idea...”

“Jaskier, I’m working.” Gerald warned. It felt so natural to be able to say again. So wonderful and heartbreaking and right and devastating all at once. It was conflicting to say the least.

Jaskier ignored him: “...I’ve been listening a lot to different styles of music lately and folk music really stuck with me. So I thought of writing a folk song, for variation you know, like that acoustic alt-rock-ballad I played for you the other day?”

Geralt didn’t even try to look like he understood a word Jaskier was saying.

“I have a new gig coming up, you see, and I need some inspiration. So I was thinking of doing some research on folklore and stuff”

“And why are you telling me this?” Geralt deadpanned. Jaskier physically cringed at his words.

Jaskier had told Geralt he had about as many musical bones in his body as he did funny bones- which was none. He clearly wanted something out of him.

“The library with the book I need is all the way across town and I don’t have a car so...”

“You need a ride?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier nodded vigorously.

Geralt sighed and looked at the watch on his wrist. He only had an hour until he could clock out. He could take Jaskier, no problem, but it felt unnecessary to take him all the way across town for a book that likely contained less than a quarter of what Geralt could tell him in half an hour. He sighed again and looked back at Jaskier who stared at him with pleading, puppy dog eyes.

Then again, what wouldn’t he do for Jaskier?

“Alright, I’ll take you when I’m done here.”

Geralt could swear Jaskier actually squealed.

*

The car ride was silent but comfortable. It was Jaskier’s first time riding in Roach and he was slightly in awe, and constantly flipping with the buttons on the radio.

“Would you stop that please?” Geralt asked.

“No.” Jaskier grinned and kept changing stations every few seconds.

At the library Jaskier immediately disappeared to whatever corner he needed to go to. Geralt sat down by a table in the middle of the room where he had been instructed to wait.

It took Jaskier a good half an hour to resurface again. When he did he dumped a stack of books on the wooden table, making Geralt start.

“What do you need all these for?” Geralt asked.

“I told you, I’m researching.” Jaskier said and opened the top book at random. “Look, this one is all about Swedish folklore, there’s something called “Näcken”. It’s a naked man who plays violin to lure people to the water and drown them.”

“That sounds stupid” Geralt huffed.

“I think it’s quite intriguing. What about this one then?” Jaskier picked up another book and flipped through the pages before turning it over to Geralt. “It’s about merpeople, like mermaids and mermen, who are peaceful...” Jaskier turned a few pages in the book. “And sirens, who are their vicious winged counterparts.” 

Now that Geralt knew was true. He’d met many sirens and merpeople in his days.

Jaskier opens a third book In excitement, this one seemingly about forest creatures. “Or what about this: Faes! Beautiful men and women with wings and sharp teeth and claws with a wicked sense of humour. If you enter their world and eat anything, you can never return. They can walk among humans with a glamour and you’d never know you were in the presence of a murderous monster! That’s terrifying!”

Geralt can’t help but stifle a laugh. The fae he had met in the forest in a previous life, his little Jaskier-fae, had been all but that. He had been sitting on a rock surrounded by flowers, peacefully playing a flute when Geralt had walked into the clearing. He had been wearing a flower crown and a smile as their eyes met across the green forest floor.

__

“Are you here to kill me?” He’d asked him, in a calm, yet sad voice. “I’ve heard the humans talk. Just make it quick.” He added with a tiny smile. 

Geralt had dropped his sword, left it lying in the grass. “No.” He’d replied.

Flowers had started to grow around his feet as the fae looked up, looked at him and through him with Jaskier’s stunning eyes. “No? You’re a sad excuse for a Witcher then. I thought you killed monsters?”

“You’re no monster.” He’d replied.

To now hear Jaskier describe a fae, himself, in another life and in such a way was highly amusing, and only slightly heartbreaking.

“That sounds like bullshit” Geralt mused. “Are you done here so we can leave?”

Jaskier slammed the book down a little too loud for their current location. A few eyebrows were raised and condescending eyes were on them as a shush came from a few bookshelves over.

“This is not bullshit!” Jaskier whispered angrily, noting the reaction of his slam. “It might not be true but it’s still fascinating.”

He finally sat down and pulled out a book from the very bottom of his stack. The other books wobbled and a few fell on the table, earning them more dirty looks from the surrounding visitors. Jaskier either did not see or care about them and he went swiftly on: “This book is what I came here for. It has a collection-“

Geralt snatched the book out of his hands. “Where did you find this?” He interrupted Jaskier.

“Oh, you’re familiar?” Jaskier asked, slightly dazed, rather than answer the question.

Of course Geralt was familiar with it. It was a book from some 50 years ago with a collection of medieval songs. He’d been first in line to purchase it once he found out a few of Jaskier’s songs had been written down in it. His own copy laid in his apartment as they spoke, with worn out and yellowing pages from late nights spent reading the few lines over and over, just to remember that Jaskier was once his friend, once cared about him, once followed his every footstep. And it pained him he’d never even thanked the bard for curing his loneliness.

He couldn’t let this Jaskier see the songs he wrote in a past life. They were far too personal and emotional. They had been his life’s work and his reason to function.

“I’ve heard of it before is all.” Geralt grunted at last. He looked up at Jaskier who was staring back with questioning eyes. “I heard it isn’t very good.”

“I found these old songs whilst researching folkmusic” Jaskier continued suspiciously and tried to pry the book out of Geralt‘s strong hands. He wouldn’t let go. “Will you stop acting like a child? Why did the lord bless you with these strong arms?”

Geralt’s eyes widened and his grip weakened long enough for Jaskier to pull the book out. 

Jaskier huffed and ran a hand through his hair. Beautiful brown locks fell back into place, only slightly more disheveled.

“I like this book very much, thank you, and I found this one bard called Julian Pankratz-“ Geralt tensed. “-and of course I’d be interested in what another Julian has to say.”

“I don’t think it’s worth it” Geralt said with a warning tone. “I told you, the book is crap.”

“But you wouldn’t know, would you now? His songs have these beautiful lyrics. I only wish I knew the melody”

“They’re a bunch of bullshit, that’s what. _Toss a coin_ is filled with lies.”

“I thought you hadn’t read it?”

Geralt grunted a noncommittal response. He could practically feel his ever growing pile of lies getting away from him. Jaskier eye’d him up and down.

“You’re a strange one, aren’t you?” 

Geralt looked up silently.

“Fine, I’ll leave the book behind if it means that much to you. But you’ll have to carry the rest to the librarians desk and then to the car. They’re quite heavy, you see.”

Geralt silently thanked the gods, because perhaps there was such a thing 

“Deal.” he agreed.

*

“Hey, so, I found this one song called _‘Her Sweet Kiss’,_ it’s pretty interesting.”

Geralt looked up at Jaskier. 

“I thought you weren’t going to use that book.”

“I lied.” Jaskier said with a dazzling smile.

He should have figured. Jaskier was Jaskier after all. Still, as he inspected him nothing seemed to be off with the man. He wasn’t lying in a puddle on the floor wondering how he’d lived through a dussin lifetimes.

”I’m going to make a cover for my show this Wednesday, and I know you don’t like this folk stuff, but it’d mean a lot if you came” Jaskier carried on, un aware of Geralt inner crisis.

He looked at Geralt with such earnest. Who was he to say no? 

Only a tiny part of him wanted to hear Jaskier sing the one song Geralt had never heard him sing. And incredibly small but persistent part.

“I’ll be there, Jaskier.”

*

Geralt made his way into the coffee shop, ordered an americano and stayed by the bar as all the seats were taken.

Jaskier sat adjusting his mic. When he looked up his eyes searched the room before they locked on Geralt, and he shone up immediately. Geralt gave him a small wave before bringing the coffee to his lips.

Jaskier looked away, cleared his throat and introduceed himself to the crowd: “Hello, my name is Julian, or you might also know me as Jaskier…” his eyes flicked to Geralt again. “And I have the privilege to be welcomed back to sing my songs for you here this lovely afternoon. This first one is called…”

Jaskier sang a few of his original songs, lightly explaining or introducing them in between, and Geralt listened intently. He was whisked away by Jaskier’s voice, it was as if he had been put in a trans. 

After half an hour Jaskier’s set was nearing the end: “This last song isn’t actually my own. It’s a cover of a really, _really_ old song, but I think it’s beautiful and I’d like to dedicate it to my biggest supporter slash hater.”

He sent a smirk Geralt's way and Geralt couldn’t help but smile back fondly. He could recall the conversation they’d had about the song earlier in the day as Jaskier’s fingers started plucking at the strings. He could feel something starts to brew inside of him, a storm, perhaps, as Jaskier tentatively started singing: “The fairer sex, they often call it. But her love’s as unfair as a crook…” 

_“Isn’t ‘Her Sweet Kiss’ interesting, Geralt? There’s so much emotion. I’m actually thinking of slowing it down for my set this afternoon to really capture the emotion.” Jaskier had said excitedly as he introduced the idea to Geralt._

“...It steals all my reason  
Commits every treason  
Of logic, with naught but a look…”

_“It’s interesting alright, but it’s sloppy. It keeps changing pronouns every other sentence” Geralt had grunted in response._

“...She's always bad news  
It's always lose, lose…”

_“So you don’t like that one either?” Jaskier had gone on._

_“I didn’t say that, it was his last is all. It…”_

“...So tell me love, tell me love  
How is that just?...”

_“You clearly don’t have a clue about music. I happen to find these wonderful works of art.” Jaskier had snorted. “And ‘Her Sweet Kiss’ isn’t sloppy, it’s about three different people.”_

“...I'm weak my love, and I am wanting  
If this is the path I must trudge…”

_Geralt had opened his mouth, then closed it again. “That’s not true, is it?”_

_Jaskier had only sighed. He tilted his head and gave Geralt a peculiar look. “I’d love to stay and convince you but my bus leaves in five and I need to get home before the set so I can be on time, so ta-ta.” He said and waved._

“...I welcome my sentence  
Give to you my penance  
Garrotter, jury and judge…”

Jaskiers voice clang slowly and solemnly around the room. Geralt felt the storm inside grow. It’s something he hadn’t dare question before, but… 

No. It couldn’t be.

The raindrops made its way out of his eyes as the thunder struck his heart.

He was out the door before he registered he had started to run.

*

Jaskier had never been to his apartment before, but somehow he’d managed to get the adress, because there he stood with his stupid guitarr case and his stupid hair was ruffled from the wind and his stupid cheeks were pink from the cold october air.

It had taken him three rounds of knocking- bordering on banging by the third time- to get Geralt to open up. 

“I know you’re there!” he had shouted through the wood. “I know you’re there and I want to know why you ran away, and to say I’m sorry if I did anything.”

Geralt stood silent, watching through the peep-hole.

“I swear to God though Geralt, if you don’t open up I will camp out here all night!”

Jaskier raised his fist one more time but before he could hit the wood a fourth time it was pulled away, and Geralt stood in the doorway catching his wrist.

“Don’t wake the whole building up or you’ll have me evicted.” Geralt tried to sound intimidating but the voice sounded small even to his own ears.

Jaskier didn’t struggle to get his hand back, just looked up at Geralt, at his red eyes and wet cheeks.

“Have you been crying?” he asked.

When Geralt didn’t answer he reached his free hand toward Geralt’s cheek but the taller man pulled away before Jaskier reached his cheek. Jaskier drew his arms close to his chest. He looked as if he’d been burned. 

“I-I’m sorry Geralt, I don’t know what I did... I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Jaskier rambled. “If it about me playing that song when you asked me not to-“

Geralt took a step away. “What are you doing here Jaskier?” he asked as sternly as possible.

Jaskier opened his mouth but nothing came out. “I came to see what was wrong. You just left and I couldn’t say goodbye and now you´re crying, gosh I’ve never seen you cry.”

“I need you to leave.”

“I- why?” Jaskier asked. His voice trembled only ever so slightly.

Geralt looked at the floor. He couldn’t bear Jaskier like this. “I can’t explain, but I think it’s best if we don’t speak.”

“Ever?”

Geralt shook his head slowly.

Jaskier stood silent, and when Geralt looked up he knew Jaskier was trying to swallow around that big lump in his throat. It was the same lump Geralt had felt for the last few hours, matched with a pit deep in his stomach.

“I don’t- I don’t understand.” Jaskier was clearly willing his voice not to break.

Geralt looked at the man in front of him, the one he’d missed over centuries, the one he’d run- kept running- from, and the one he had cared for more than anything. And he was so stupid to never have realised it before. And now he had to leave another Jaskier behind, just when he’d gotten him back.

But it was for Jaskier’s sake, he told himself. A little pain was nothing compared to Jaskier’s well being. A claw at his heart was nothing compared to having it ripped out if Jaskier were to die. He couldn’t deal with that pain a third time. The last two almost killed him.

Yet he wanted to give him an explanation. Jaskier deserved that much at the very least. He only wished there was one that he could give.

“...I just realised someone once loved me, and I think I loved them too, but I was blind not to realise it at the time...” Geralt tried.

“What does that have to do with me?” Jaskier asked, eyes threatening to spill over with tears.

Geralt felt himself take a step forward. He didn’t want Jaskier crying over him. He wasn’t worth crying over. “Nothing, I’m sorry.”

“So why can’t we be friends?” Jaskier all but shouted. 

Geralt couldn’t care less what his neighbors thought at this point. If he’d be yelled at or evicted so be it. This was _Jaskier_ , after all.

He took another step closer and gently enveloped Jaskier in his arms, even though he knew it went against every single one of his principles and even though he knew the longing would be so much greater tomorrow. He just needed Jaskier to be alright.

“Shhh, it’s okay.”

Jaskier reflexively grabbed a hold of him, letting his arms meet around his back and pressing close to Geralt.

“But it’s not okay, Geralt. It’s not. I was new here, and I didn’t really have any friends, but you took care of me, even though I annoy the shit out of you and even though I tried to ask you out the first time I saw you...” _What?_ ”...But you still helped me and I was so, so glad that I somehow managed to become your friend, and then you went and turned your back on me and you won’t even tell me why or say what I did or how I can fix it.”

Jaskier took in a sharp breath. His breathing was fast and uneven as tears and snot were running down his face and soaking through the material of Geralt’s shirt.

“Please let me fix it?” It was a broken whisper.

“Jaskier…” Geralt sighed, but he didn’t recieve a response. Just more sobbing from the head that had reburied itself in his chest. “There’s nothing to fix, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Then why do you hate me?” Jaskier asked with a small voice, 

“I don’t.” He sighed. “You’re perfect, you just,-“ _are_ “-remind me of him.”

Jaskier perked up at that. He looked at Geralt through long lashes that had been coloured dark from teary eyes and stood stark against his pale skin as a result. It was the most gorgeous sight he’d ever seen. Jaskier was beautiful.

He wanted to tell him that, like so many times before, so this time he did: “You’re beautiful.”

Jaskier gazed up at Geralt, and his eyes glanced down at his lips. Geralt could feel his grip on the situation loosen, but it was as if he couldn’t move. Once again, he froze when faced with Jaskier.

Slowly Jaskier stood up on his tippy toes and ghosted a breath over Geralt’s lips, before carefully pressing a tentative kiss to them.

Geralt didn’t stop him, or even draw away. He kissed back instead. Even craned his neck down so that Jaskier could stand more comfortably on the ground. Jaskier grabbed a fistful of Geralt’s shirt and suddenly their lips were pressing harder together and their bodies were impossibly close.

Geralt couldn’t tell where he ended and Jaskier began. He couldn’t hear the voice telling him this was a terrible idea, or find the energy to will it into existence. Because this was all he’d wanted for a very long time, despite knowing he was acting so fucking stupid.

His brain was short circuiting and all he could think was _Jaskier, Jaskier, Jaskier_. 

When they pulled away he had to gasp twice. Once for much needed air and a second time as the stupidity of his actions caught up to him. He took two steps back. At the same time Jaskier touched two fingers to his lower lip, giving Geralt a look of disbelief. It was like realisation washed over his face.

“Geralt” he said softly. _“Fuck, Geralt.”_

They stood in silence, but behind his eyes Geralt could see the cogs spinning in Jaskier’s head. Geralt was scared.

“Fuck… I remember.”

Geralt felt panic surge in the pit of his stomach and his blood ran cold with ice. He swallowed hard and tried to compose himself. “What do you mean?” He played dumb.

Jaskier enveloped him. “Everything” he said softly into Geralt’s chest. He looked up with a small smile. “Why are you frowning so, Gerry?”

Geralt swallowed down the nausea. He felt genuinely sick.

“Are you… feeling okay? Any headaches?” He asked carefully, trying to distance Jaskier from himself, even though the smaller man was in his arms.

“Okay? I’m marvellous. Geralt, I remember now. Our travels, my songs...” He trailed off, suddenly looking scared. “You do remember me, don’t you? Geralt? I- I knew I would see you again, I just didn’t expect it to take so long.” He gasped. “I _have_ seen you before.”

Geralt quickly let go, and Jaskier almost stumbled over himself. He hadn’t realised how much Jaskier was leaning on him for support.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Geralt said coldly, trying to control the damage he had done.

Jaskier let out a soft laugh. It sounded like water droplets on the tree’s leaves hitting the forest floor. Like golden rings falling down in a table. It was the most beautiful sound Geralt had heard.

“Yes you do, Geralt, yes you do. I’m not thick enough to fall for that. I know who I am. I’m Julian Alfred Pankratz to be clear, and you, my dear, are the famous Witcher Geralt of Rivia.”

Geralt furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you not… in pain?”

“Really is that all you have to say at this revelation? No I am not, why are you asking?”

“I supposed you’d be split in half by now.”

“Did you believe those old wives tales? Oh no wonder it took so long for me to find you!”

“You’ve been looking for me?”

“Of course!” Jaskier exclaimed with a smile. 

Geralt looked at him, feeling his heart swell over. He hugged Jaskier again, harder than before, hard enough to crush his ribs. He didn’t know how it was possible Jaskier Gad been searching for him but he didn’t care at the moment. 

“I’m so fucking sorry Jaskier, for that day on the mountain. I’ve wanted to apologise so many times. It hurts me that I ever hurt you, that I screamed at you, that I-“ the tears were welling over again, this time in Geralt’s eyes.

Jaskier gave him a squeeze and patted his back soothingly. “Oh dear, have you carried that with you all this time? I let go of that long ago. After we parted I walked my own way. I wrote songs under a new pseudonym because I missed you so much, I couldn’t bear being associated with you anymore. After a few years I met a girl. We lived a nice, simple life, and I died at an old age surrounded by my children and loved ones, Geralt. And I died at peace, with you, with the world, and with my life.”

“But I never apologised to you.”

“But my dear, sweet Geralt. Who knew you were such a hopeless romantic? I never needed you to. I knew you were lashing out, just as I knew we would meet again. We’re soulmates, you see. Two pieces of the same soul. We are willed together by the fates again and again. One cannot exist without the other. So I’ve lived many lives now, but I remember them all. I’ve been a pirate, a fae, I remember meeting you some 50 years after we first parted. I’ve met you time and time again, always knowing I was looking for something, but never realising it had been you.”

“How have you grown wiser than any version of you before?”Geralt sniffled. 

“Because I just lived 700 years in a minute, Geralt. Going from 27 to 757 does that to you. You really should’ve kissed me earlier. It’s not like I didn’t want you to.”

Geralt perked up again. “About that. Did you mean what you said? About the coffee shop?”

Jaskier sighed and blushed lightly. He let out a nervous chuckle. “Of course, I wanted you to take me home right then and there. You looked so fucking sexy, when you were sat there smouldering and just staring at me. And you stayed for my entire set, which was rare.”

Geralt smiled, and for the first time ever leaned down to kiss Jaskier again, but just before their lips would touch, he mumbled: “What if I loose you again?”

Jaskier hummed, slowly closing his eyes.

“You will. But it’s simple really, you find me and kiss me, and I’ll be all over you again”

”And what if you don’t want to kiss me?”

“Impossible. Have you seen yourself? You do realise you’re stupidly attractive.” 

It was said as a statement rather than in question, and it was enough for Geralt to grumble: “Simple enough”, earning a snicker from Jaskier.

It was cut off by Geralt‘s lips pressing against his own.

They pressed closer, and finally they were stumbling inside Geralt’s apartment, leaving the corridor empty of the emotional rollarcoaster they had somehow had in the last few minutes.

*

Being awoken in the early hours in his bed, not by teasing sunshine through the window or a blaring alarm clock, but by himself next to the love of his life was highly surreal.

Jaskier’s glorious naked form laid draped over the warm Witcher’s side. His long legs were intertwined with Geralt’s own and his arm was splayed across the chest he’d happily covered in kisses just hours earlier.

The blanket had rode down Jaskier’s shoulder, leaving his back exposed, so Geralt moved closer to Jaskier and put it back in place so he wouldn’t de cold. Cornflower blue eyes sleepily opened up to blink back at him.

“What time is it?” The owner mumbled with a gruff voice.

“Four in the morning. Go back to sleep, darling.” Geralt whispered into the dim room.

Jaskier hummed happily and cuddled into Geralt’s chest once more. “Oh, and one last thing.” Jaskier mumbled.

“Anything.”

“You better not touch your beautiful hair again.”

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Explanation corner:
> 
> The vibe I tried to go for was a: “Geralt loves Jaskier but he doesn’t realise/can’t put words to it” which is why I kept making him so weak for Jaskier, and why he thought he was “breathtaking” or had an “enchanting voice”. It kind of gets worse as he falls more in love with him over generations and reincarnations, but it’s been so long that Geralt doesn’t even understand what he feels for Jaskier anymore.
> 
> Also:
> 
> Soulmates are two pieces of the same soul. They are willed together by destiny and ment to be together. One cannot exist without the other. 
> 
> Geralt hasn’t died, so Jaskier has been reborn so he can find his soulmate over a span of a dussin lifetimes, but since Geralt has kept pushing him away, they haven’t joined together. At their first kiss something happens: Jaskier get’s all memories back of his original life as well as the many others.
> 
> It felt in pour taste to just squeeze that in but yeah, the more you know.


End file.
